The Morning Routine
by Hitorako
Summary: Squall reflects on the changes in his life. Laguna can't find his pants.


Squall blinked in the morning sunlight. The blinds were adjusted to just the right angle to let the first rays shine directly on the pillow, one of the many tricks Squall had employed to keep Laguna from showing up late to quite so many important presidential functions. Sadly, it didn't turn out to be as effective as he'd hoped - Laguna had simply developed a habit of rolling over to bury his face in the hollow of Squall's neck, his arm flung over Squall's chest. Squall didn't mind, except that it left his eyes exposed to the sun every morning.

One arm was pinned under Laguna's softly snoring weight, but he was able to get the other up to block some of the light. With a lazy yawn, he turned to squint at the time, flashing across the face of the clock on their nightstand.

08:48

"Oh, shit!" With his free hand, he gave Laguna's shoulder a hard enough shove to send him rolling to the other side of the bed and leaped to his feet. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"Can't find the snorkel," Laguna mumbled into the pillow, "but 'm not hungry anyway..." Squall rolled his eyes as he heard the snoring start again, and then dove for his clothes. They were laid out neatly on a chair, which made things much easier - a concept he never could get across to Laguna, who preferred to let his clothes lay wherever he dropped them. Squall was just glad that Laguna had already firmly established his public image before they'd met, otherwise Selphie would never have stopped teasing him about the president's rumpled clothes.

He had his pants on in a few seconds, and he returned to the bed to shake Laguna by the shoulder. "Wake up, Laguna! It's almost nine o' clock - you have to meet with the Ministry of Health in ten minutes!"

Laguna pulled the blankets tighter around him. "Can't you go for me?"

"As much as the idea thrills me," he replied, giving Laguna a quick kiss on the cheek, "I have to be down on the field in full uniform at 9:15 to teach a defense course."

"Do I have to get out of bed?"

"Yes." Squall turned around, eyes scanning the floor.

"And get dressed?"

"Yes," Squall said patiently, tossing a pair of wrinkled brown slacks at Laguna's head. "Wear these - the official types appreciate when you wear pants." He made his way to the bathroom and set to work brushing his teeth.

Squall's morning routine had suffered greatly since he and Laguna had been living together. He had always been a creature of habit - wake up at the crack of dawn, do a few quick push-ups, shower (hair first, then straight down from there, no more than a few seconds per body part), brush his teeth, shave, get dressed, and start the day. Now, more often than not, he found himself distracted for one reason or another, and had to cut corners a lot more than he liked.

"Will you be able to come to lunch?" Laguna called from the bedroom. His voice sounded mostly alert, but it still had that gravelly early-morning rumble to it that never quite went away until he had his first cup of coffee. Squall found it almost painfully adorable.

"Depends," said Squall after a quick rinse. "What are we having?"

"Whatever I can get delivered. Sandwiches, probably. Have you seen my watch?"

"It's in here." Squall ran his hand over his chin. He could feel the stubble, but it wasn't quite visible. It would have to do. He grabbed Laguna's watch from the counter and breezed into the bedroom, sending it sailing across the room into Laguna's hands, and then immediately onto the floor when Laguna fumbled it. "I guess I could be convinced to take some time out of my busy schedule, if there'll be sandwiches." He pulled his tee-shirt over his head and grabbed his uniform jacket off the back of the chair.

"They're very good sandwiches, I'll have you know." Laguna stopped buttoning his shirt to wag a finger at Squall, grinning broadly. "Only the freshest deli meats and cheeses, imported from, er, the rolling hills of Esthar, where lie the finest grocery stores in all the land! And the bread handmade by the honest, hardworking people of...what are you looking at?"

Squall couldn't help but smile at the look of puzzlement. "You," he said, walking over to Laguna with his uniform hanging open. "Your socks don't match, and your shirt's done up crooked - you're setting a fine example for your people, you know."

Laguna looked down at his clothes. "Oh," he said softly, as Squall's fingers reached for his shirt. He let his head drop forward and inhaled deeply as Squall deftly undid each button and started rebuttoning them from the bottom up. "Mmm...your hair smells nice."

"I haven't washed it." The embroidered uniform jacket had slid off Squall's shoulders, and hung at the crook of his elbows, waving gently as he worked. 

Laguna raised an arm to run his fingertips down the side of Squall's neck, and over the rounded bump of his shoulder. "Still smells nice." He brought his hand back up to cup Squall's chin, turning his face toward his own.

"I'm not done."

"I can get it from here." Their lips touched, and Squall closed his eyes. The kiss was long and slow, and lazier than either of them felt, tongues sliding over each other in a luxurious dance while Squall's fingers hovered, forgotten, over the last button. When they broke apart, Laguna smiled warmly. "Thank you."

Squall shook himself slightly, blinking several times as he pulled the jacket back on and zipped it up. He started to turn away, but stopped halfway to rest his fingertips on the triangle of exposed skin on Laguna's chest. He smiled back, small but genuine. "I've got to go - I'll see you this afternoon, love." And with that, he rushed out the door to start the day.

He had to admit, the new routine had its advantages. 


End file.
